


He Did Not Begin Peacefully

by hauntedmusings



Series: Where Sleeping Gods Lie [2]
Category: NiGHTS into Dreams, Sonic Shuffle, ナイツ 〜星降る夜の物語〜 | NiGHTS: Journey of Dreams (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Catharsis, Childhood Memories, Existential Angst, Existentialism, Flashbacks, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-13
Updated: 2019-03-13
Packaged: 2019-11-16 15:23:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18096974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedmusings/pseuds/hauntedmusings
Summary: The soul that will one day call itself the Wizeman is born, but he is not the Wizeman yet. For better or for worse, a light in the void tries to help.





	He Did Not Begin Peacefully

He did not begin peacefully.

The moon was born in calamity, in a collision of fire and flames that ripped mountains from the sky. Before it was the moon, it was a part of the Earth. Before it was the moon, it was just as rough and unformed as the rest of the planet. Before it was the moon it was just as brimming with the potential life as anything else. And then, suddenly, violently, the Earth had been broken, knocked open, cracked like an egg shell, and debris were sent spiraling outwards into the abyss where it would never come back. The moon began as a shard of something else, already distant and empty from the life it could have had.

All celestial bodies begin this way, in some form or another. The birth of gods are hardly ever quiet.

He awoke in the cacophony of his own creation, confused and dazed and in pain, not unlike how most children are born. Everything was too loud, too much, and he had only just _started_ to exist. Would all of existing be like this? So overwhelming, so constant? It was much colder out here alone, without the warmth of the rest of the world embracing him. He wanted to be back in the crust of the Earth. He wanted to not be stranded. Even more confusing, he _wanted_. He was having thoughts that were _his_ , that were not put there by anyone except himself. He was alive. So very alive. But what did that mean?

The young god did what most babies do when confronted with their own reality. He cried. He cried and cried, and, although words had not been invented yet, he called out.

“Hello?”

The child whimpered, with a voice he had only just found. He did not know many things yet, but he knew that living things were not meant to be alone. Was he living? Is this what being alive was?

“Hello?”

He called again, desperate, into the empty realm of night before him. His voice echoed back to him.

“I’m scared!”

He said, and as he did, the word “scared" felt more like a place than a feeling. The world he had found himself in was empty, dark, and immense. His voice, the only thing he knew how to create, echoed back to him in fleeting bits, each time smaller than the last. He thought he might fade away just like the echoes of his voice, that this scary world might swallow him whole, like some kind of nightmarish monster.

The young god pulled his knees in close into a hug and buried his face. He thought, if he was going to fade away, he better brace himself for it. If he closed his eyes as tightly as he could, maybe it would all be over and existence could forget about him.

Who knows how much time passed. It could have been minutes, or it could have been centuries. But as he lied there in the cold, waiting not to exist, something new and confusing happened. Light peeked through into the cracks in his eyelids, filling his vision with rays of pink and red. He had felt fire and calamity before, in the vague beginnings of his mind, but this was a different kind of light. Warmth danced on the tips of his shoulders, on the top of his head, something welcoming and kind.

Hesitantly, he opened his eyes, because it was the first time something wasn’t cold and alone.

The light belonged to a woman, tall and ethereal, who looked as though she were made up of strokes of gold and sunset pink. Drapes of cloth looped and flowed around her, that looked like they were woven from the rays of the setting sun. Two wings, iridescent and glowing, flowed around and behind her, the colors of a prism held up to the light. She stared down at the mysterious child, her eyes a glowing sea of rose gold, with the same sense of bewilderment and discovery that the young moon felt within him.

“Who are you?” She finally spoke, words filled with caution.

The newborn god wasn’t sure how to respond.

“I don't know.” He answered, honestly, leaving an uncertain silence between the two. The glowing woman’s brow furrowed, unsure what to make of that. She pressed a little further, voice gentle.

“Can you tell me anything else?”

The young god thought for a minute. He hadn’t had time for anything else, had he? He sat there, trying to rack his brain for something he could grasp onto, something that was certain about his existence.

He spoke slowly. “I'm here,”

“...Yes, you are.”

“And I don't like it.”

Her light seemed to dim a little, hearing this. She looked down at him with a sort of sympathetic understanding. She lowered her grand stature to the space beside him, so that she were not hovering so tall above him.

“My name’s Illumina,” She offered, bringing her light back up to a comfortable glow. A fractal, iridescent wing folded around him like a shield. “Do you have a name?”

“A name?” He echoed. His eyes, a silvery grey, grew big and wide with curiosity, reflecting back the bits of color glowing off her wings.

“Yes. Something to call yourself.” She explained. “It's… Important, after all, for you to know yourself. Having something to call your own,  even if it's just a word that means ‘you’, helps that.”

The young god held his hands out, and looked at them for the first time. He had never stopped to truly examine himself, after discovering his existence. His skin was a darker tan than hers, and much cooler than the radiant rosy redness that surrounded her. His hair fell over his face in silvery sweeps, almost shimmering in the light. He found that he had been born in blue robes that glistened and glittered like they were made of midnight, and was not sure what to make of them.

“...Does everything have a name?” He asked, finally.

“Yes, everything.” Illumina smiled. “For as long as there are things that exist to be loved and discovered, we find names to give them. The only things without names are things that haven't been found yet. But you are found, and you are loved, so you deserve a name.”

“...Okay, well, I don't know about my name, but what are those?” He pointed towards, at the spattering of dots of white light, like little holes poked in the void of this world.

Illumina looked up, expression softening.

“Oh, the stars...” She said, voice sentimental, and longing. She spoke as if she were speaking of old friends, as if the word ‘star’ meant the same as ‘home’. Illumina breathed. “Those stars are quite far away, their light has only just reached here. I am a star, but I am not nearly so distant as those are.”

The Moon blinked. “Am I a star, too?”

Illumina thought for a moment, eyeing the child in thought. “I don't believe so. You seem to be something entirely different.”

This seemed to confuse, and even upset the Moon, who had gone from wanting to be nothing to only wanting to belong. His brow furrowed, his silvery eyes awash with the threat of tears. His voice cracked.

“Then why am I _here?_ ”

Illumina was reminded how fragile this new life was in this state.

“I think,” Illumina started, cautiously. “Because of them.”

She turned to look behind her, at the crust of the planet The Moon was born from. The calamity had gone and the world was evening out quite nicely. It could now finally, with some familiarity, be called the Earth.

“We wouldn't be here unless _they_ were going to be here one day. You are their Moon, just as I am their Sun. We live in the same space and are special to them.”

This only further confused the Moon. He squinted. The place he had been born from was barely recognizable now, patches of green had taken over and blue oceans marbled the surface.

“Who is ‘them’?”

“They are.” She breathed. “People. The ones who dream, who look up in the sky and wonder what put it all there. You need people for there to be dreams, after all. Gods like us- We can only be alive if there are people to dream us up. Their love, their belief creates us. For you to be here so soon, that means you must be important.”

“I don't think I understand all this...” He murmured. Illumina rubbed his back, soothingly.

“That's okay. It's a lot to understand, you will have much time to figure it all out.” She cooed. Her eyes traveled back up to the stars. “It is lonely out here. Most of those lights are empty. The stars that gave us those streaks of light are gone now, ghosts in the night sky. Even the stars that are still there are empty, they do not circulate planets that can dream them life. I am the only one I have found like myself,” She looked thoughtfully down. ”Until now.”

He stared into the sky, into the stars. “What do you call all this?”

“The night.”

“I think I like Nights. Can that word be mine?”

“It can be.”

The Moon nodded slowly, then paused, in thought. “Or maybe… I can give it to someone else, someone new and dear. Being suddenly alive is an awful lot. It could make a beautiful welcoming gift, if anyone arrives here later. It'd be nice to have a comfort like that."

Illumina laughed, then nodded.

“What a wise child you are.”

The word rang like a bell and something clicked inside him that would not open for many, many years.

“What do I do now?” He uttered, after too long a period of quiet. “Now that I'm… Here. Now that I'm important.”

“I think that is up to you.” She said, but the questions would not cease.

“Will I like existing?” He fumbled with his words a little. “And- What if I don't?”

Illumina paused, thoughtfully. “Find something you _do_ like, and never let it go.”

The Moon nodded cautiously, not fully understanding, but finding comfort in the fact that he might one day. And he did. With great tragedy, and great horror, he did.


End file.
